Page 84 of Snatched By the Sandman

She’s here to dig the knife in, claim her power from all his years of holding it with an unbreakable chain.

Zachariah sits up straight, his lean, predatory build rising higher than past Zenya’s head as she takes her seat at the opposite side of the table. Acid burns my throat from his smirk, his eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of pride. “So, you finally dyed your hair,” he drawls. “I remember you always wanted it, but I never let you.”

Past Zenya needles her eyes onto his eyes. “I got a dog too,” she says, almost daring him to laugh. “And my first tattoos.” She raises her arms, the right bearing butterflies and the left etched in moths. Symbolic of her new path, her transformation.

He laughs, a cold, cruel sound that echoes off the walls. I stiffen, but Morpheus twists and curls his soothing shadows along the edges of my body, granting me his calm presence.

“Oh, sweet Zenya, your naivety is almost charming. Did you really believe you could ever be normal?” He leans forward as far as his chains would allow, his eyes boring into hers. “Your bloodwill always be mine. I’m too carved into your skin and bones for you to be anything less than following in my footsteps.”

Expression turning grim, she shakes her head, her voice trembling but self-sufficient. “I refuse to believe that. I will be different, even if it means chasing a new high after high to stay away from the feeling of blood dripping down my arm and bones snapping beneath my hands.”

His laughter grew louder, more mocking. “Go ahead, try to outrun your demons. But remember, I won’t revoke your trust fund. You’re welcome to it. And I’ll enjoy watching you try to escape, knowing you’ll come crawling back to me. Even in your nightmares, I’ll be there.”

“Hmm…” She folds her hands on the table, and it’s the first time I come off the wall, relishing the next part. Nyxion’s chilled breath drifts across the back of my neck as I pass him and circle my father.

“Are we having a staring contest?” Zachariah asks the younger me, tilting his head like the beast he is. She doesn’t blink, and I lower one solitary finger along the back of my father’s neck. He shivers, and I twist my smile, grateful he has some consciousness of my presence.

“What about your own demons,Daddy?” She cracks a smile, her eyes gleaming. “Do you even know who your greatest one is? And how she betrayed you with a smile on her face and no hesitation?”

His hands begin to clench, the knuckles turning white with his suspicion. “Why?” His voice is firm.

I advance to the other side of him, studying the shadows of his face, his hardened jaw.

“You ripped out my flowers,” she retorts, leaning back in her seat.

“The fuck?”

“The Zinnias I planted over the latest body you forced me to bury.”

My chest tightens with the memory of his disgust since it was the first time I saved no bones from the corpse. I merely planted the flowers.

“Of all the reasons you could have?—”

“It was enough,” she interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest while I slide my fingers along the metal. “Because enough was enough. Never forget, Daddy dearest,”—she winks playfully, seizing her power—, “I know where the bodies are buried.”

He snarls, brows screwing low. “You won’t reveal the locations. Not when you could be tried now.”

“You still don’t get it.” She shakes her head with an airy laugh through her nostrils. I arrive at her side, grinning down at my younger self, who reminds me of my evil twin. “I negotiated immunity in exchange for me testifying at your trial. Hell, they offered me witness protection because of all the fallout. But I declined. We both know I can take care of myself, and I’m going to help myself to that big, fat trust fund—another part of my negotiation. It’s in my name now, Daddy-O.” She spreads her arms, palms open.

My blood pulses quicker with the reminder of the control I took back and how the blood drains from my father’s face.

The cold presence at my back startles me, and my breath hitches at the proximity of Nyxion. His skeletal hand draws the bony fingers along the left side of my arm, and I fight back tears because I wonder if he senses—or even knows—the personal and private fallout that happened in this room. The one that stalked my nightmares. I lower my chin, trying to control my quickening breaths.

“Well, now, my sweet flower…the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, does it?” It’s his turn to lean back and laugh. Oh, he tips his head back and laughs maniacally.

Nyxion’s fingers linger at my wrist. When shadows swarm around my body, I look up to find Morpheus before me, his dark eyes on me while his fingers cup my chin. I shiver from Nyxion’s skeletal fingers capturing my hair. Tremors ripple through me. Gooseflesh buds on my skin. Both Gods hem me in, sensing my need.

“Your betrayal is great, Zenya. But you’ve betrayed yourself far more.” He chuckles darkly and opens one palm toward me. “From now on, you will carry me with you. No matter how much you try to hide from me, I am the ghost in your blood who will always find you.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, a twisted smile playing on his lips, he stares back at Zenya. “You think you’ve escaped me by coming forward? By revealing where the bodies are buried? You’ve merely fulfilled my eventual death. Lethal injection. Do you think the thought of the needle entering my flesh will ever leave you? Your invisible hand will be there when it spears my flesh. It will forever haunt you, Zenya.”

My lungs burn from my withering breath, and I work my hardest not to turn away from Morpheus—and leaning back ever so slightly to feel Nyxion’s chest beyond his suit coat.

Zachariah takes perverse pride in past Zenya’s actions, his voice dripping with malevolent satisfaction. “You’ve ensured that I will be the greatest monster in your mind. You will always be broken, Zenya, because I broke you long ago. But you…you have shattered yourself into a thousand pieces.”

Anger flushes her cheeks, her rebellion surging through her as she stands up from the table, her eyes blazing with opposition. “I will collect all the pretty pieces.” Her voice is steady and unwavering. “And I will turn them into diamonds until they shine.”

Her father’s laughter is cold. It mocks her. “Diamonds? You will never be a diamond. You areiron, Zenya. I have forgedyou with my fire and sharpened you into the fierce girl you are now. No matter how hard you try to polish yourself, you cannot escape your true nature. You are hot blood and icy bones. And the slice of a knife across the weakling throat.”

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